


conformity (is the enemy of growth)

by thegalaxyeffect



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Gen, Implied Maya Hart/Josh Matthews, Maya is confused, Minor Lucas Friar/Riley Matthews, the long game can die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegalaxyeffect/pseuds/thegalaxyeffect
Summary: “Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.”
Maya isn't sure when her art stopped being hers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from a JFK quote

Things are going good for Maya. She’s happy, she swears.

At least, she’s as happy as  _ Maya _ is supposed to be. 

One of her paintings got accepted into this statewide competition where they put your art in a gallery and judges and other people walk around and ask you about it and while she knows she probably won’t win, she’s genuinely excited that she even got accepted. 

Her mother makes a point of asking for the day off work just so she can be there. 

Topanga, obviously, lets her off work. She even goes so far as to close the cafe for the day because her and Matthews are going to be at the art show, of course.

Shawn takes an early flight home from LA the day before the art show just to surprise her because  _ he wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo _ .

Josh shows up too, he gives her a single rose and winks with a: “Long game?”

To which she nods, trying to make her smile feel more genuine and replies: “Long game.”

Josh’s single rose is all but forgotten when Zay and Farkle arrive with a dozen each, nearly fighting each other to be the first one to give her the flowers. 

Farkle wins, placing a kiss on her nose and telling her: “I always knew you’d do great things.”

Zay wraps his arm around her and says: “I’m proud of you, Papaya. You and I are going to have to take a ridiculously good selfie later to commemorate this night.” 

Riley and Lucas walk in together, hand in hand, and Maya quickly averts her eyes, something sharp stinging in her chest. 

She pushes the feeling down because she’s  _ Maya _ and  _ Maya _ never liked him.

“Peaches!” Her best friend embraces her and she’s warm, she’s  _ happy _ . “You’re amazing, Maya.” 

She sees the cowboy examining her art when Riley finally lets her go and his gaze shifts to meet her eyes, a soft smile on his face. 

“Nice job.” The look in his eyes tells her that there’s more he wants to say and she tries to convince herself that she doesn’t want to hear it.

“Thanks.” She offers in return, turning away when Riley takes his hand once more.

In the end, her art doesn’t win, but it comes in third which is mind blowing for her, she never thought that was possible. She never thought she was capable of qualifying, let alone placing. 

She stares at the painting a dark, hopeless looking thing with a #3 ribbon slung across it. She’s all but slammed with the realization that she doesn’t know what she’s trying to say through it. She doesn’t know what it  _ means _ . 

“I heard you entered a painting but I had to see it for myself.” Her eyes widen at the sound of her favorite teacher’s voice. (Sorry, Matthews.) And a smile spreads on her face when she spins around to see her. “ _ Maya Hart _ willingly showing her art?  _ Unheard of _ . But here you are.”

“Here I am.” Her chest warms as she launches herself into the teacher’s arms. “I’ve missed you, Ms. Kossal.” 

“And I’ve missed you, my star pupil.” She returns the hug, eventually letting go and gesturing to her painting. “So, tell me about this.”

Maya is mortified to find herself at a loss of words. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before harshly blowing air out. 

“It’s how I was feeling.” It’s sounds unsure, like a question, even to her own ears and she knows that Ms. Kossal hears the uncertainty too, by the quirk of her eyebrow. 

“Is it?”

“Or, so I’ve been told.” 

Ms. Kossal smiles then sighs.

“Do you know which one of your pieces made me think, ‘wow, this girl has  _ something to say _ ?’”

“No.” Maya is unsure of where this is going, but Ms. Kossal has a knowing look in her eyes.

“The one of the woman in the diner. I knew from that moment that you would be a great artist.”

“Why?”

“That was the painting that you submitted to the school exhibit. Your mother didn’t come to that, did she?”

“She had to work.”

“That’s your mother, isn’t it?” Ms. Kossal nods to where her mother is tucked under Shawn’s arm, lost in conversation with Topanga and Matthews. 

“It is.”

“My favorite piece of art you ever did for me was after we almost lost the creative arts. It was so  _ hopeful _ . I keep the two of those paintings hung up beside each other in my room. It reminds me that something must have happened in your life to change what you wanted to say so much.”

“What do you mean?” Maya’s breath is lodged in her throat, she knows exactly what Ms. Kossal means.

“I mean that you’ve grown and you’ve developed and the message you want to spread through your art has changed and developed too.” She glances wistfully at the painting in front of them. “Don’t let  _ anyone _ tear that growth away from you.”

“Oh.” Maya chokes, fully understanding the weight of her words. 

“Here.” Ms. Kossol hands Maya a set of oil paints. “We never got to the unit on oil painting and I always thought it was such a shame, it’s my favorite medium.”  

She hugs Maya once more and when she pulls away she puts her hands on Maya’s shoulders for a moment.

“Say what _you_ _need_ to say, not what someone else thinks you should.”

“Ms. Kossal.” Maya calls after the woman as she begins to walk away. “Thank you.”

“Have hope, Maya.” She says in response. “It’s worth it.”

Maya looks down at the paint set in her hands and notices a card tucked inside. She pulls it out and nearly has to sit down with the weight of the words she reads.

 

_ “Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.” _

_ Keep growing, Maya. I can’t wait to see what you become. _

_ With love, Ms. Kossal _

 

In a flurry she’s rushing out the door, telling her mom that they have to go home  _ right now _ . She all but drags her and Shawn home, sprinting to her room the second their front door opens and immediately ripping into the oil paints. 

Before she’s even aware of what she’s doing, her hands are moving brushes over the canvas, a combination of yellows, reds, and oranges smearing into a fire she hasn’t stopped thinking about. The sky is tinted a green that matches the color of the eyes she stared into that night in Texas. There are stars dotting the sky, like the flecks of gold in his eyes. 

She sits back when she’s finished, her fingers stained orange and a smear of green on her jaw. She looks at what she’s created, the memory she’s brought to life and she thinks, yeah, she knows  _ exactly _ what she’s trying to say. 

How to deal with it, though, she’s not so sure of.


End file.
